Total pages in book: 156
Estimated words: 158829 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 794(@200wpm)___ 635(@250wpm)___ 529(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 158829 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 794(@200wpm)___ 635(@250wpm)___ 529(@300wpm)
“Il Museo Della Musica!” she repeats.
“Sunshine, why don’t you use your tripod? Might be easier.”
“Oh, I didn’t bring it. But with the conversation I’ll have to edit out, I guess I should just start over.”
“I put your tripod in your purse,” I say.
“You didn’t, right? Because that would make you the best boyfriend ever.”
Not for long. I hope, I think to myself, biting back a smile.
She reaches in her purse and pulls out the small folded metal stick with a massive smile.
While she’s distracted setting her up stuff, I see my chance.
I pull the tiny grey box out of my pocket and drop to one knee, waiting.
Waiting.
And waiting some more.
A frigging eternity passes before she turns around.
“Brock? Oh my God, what—what are you doing?” When it hits her, she gasps.
“Setting the world right side up,” I tell her.
“W-why?” she stammers, tears already welling in her eyes.
“Because. Some idiot overbooked my room in Lanai one night, and I had a really awkward meeting with a sun angel. After one day trying to fix my mistakes, I already knew she was special.” I pause, clearing my throat. “I expected it to be a one-time deal. But she fell back in my life and ran off with my heart. Piper, you’ve always been the light of my destiny and my morning star. Because I’m a greedy prick, I want to keep you. I want to wake up with you every single day. I want to travel the whole world and make love on every continent, and then I want to come home and do it all over again. And we both know there’s only one way that happens.”
I flick the velvet box open with my thumb, revealing an antique English wedding ring.
It’s all ornate gold with a blue diamond in the center, surrounded by a halo of more white diamonds.
“Oh, wow,” she breathes, tears streaming down her cheeks. “Brock, wow.”
My heart catches.
I need an answer.
“Is that a yes?” I whisper.
She answers by closing the space between us, dropping her hands to my shoulders, and nodding until her forehead rests on mind.
“God, yes. Now will you stand up and kiss me?”
“With pleasure.”
First, I take the ring from the box and grab her left hand.
She’s trembling as I slide the ring on her finger, bring it to my mouth, and kiss what’ll always be mine.
“Woman, it’s done. We’re in this forever.” I can barely get the words out around the damnable lump in my throat.
Before I stand, she kneels down and kisses me with her all.
I don’t know how long I’m on the floor with her, kissing my bride-to-be before a very loud throat clears. It startles Piper, too, and she jumps.
There’s a frowning priest behind us with his arms folded.
“Sorry, I had to borrow this place. I’m marrying her,” I say in broken Italian, grabbing Piper’s hand and holding up the ring as proof.
He throws back sharp words.
My Italian is shit, but I understand enough to know we’re being kicked out. On the way, I pull out a wad of US dollars and Euros and leave them in the collection box.
Piper grabs her phone and tripod, giggling the whole time. She doesn’t even care that she barely got any shots.
I lead her to the door and both of us burst into laughter.
“Good thing I took a few shots upfront! That’s one hidden treasure we won’t be capturing again.”
We tumble outside in the golden light, laughing and kissing, and I wonder how she can be so clueless.
I’ve got my hidden treasure, and I’ll be holding on to her with all my might.
31
Cobblestone Road (Piper)
Eight Months Later
“Wow!” Maisy whispers for the dozenth time. “Pippy, when you promised to take me to Europe, I didn’t think we’d be staying in a castle!”
She bounces up and down on the balls of her feet.
“It’s technically not a castle. Just an old English estate,” I say.
Honestly, though, she’s right to wonder with its soaring towers and turrets and beautifully archaic stone walls.
This house is huge and historic and intimidating even for me, and I’ve been here before. When we did the three-month tour, his grandparents hosted us.
English roses climb the iron gate that protects it from the modern world.
“Estate? So, he is Mr. Darcy,” Maisy says with a laugh. “Don’t even try to deny it.”
“Better. He’s just Brock.” I smile because the man I’m about to spend forever with is never 'just' anything.
“Seriously, lady. How did you get so lucky? You fell facedown in a fairy tale!” Jenn says, spinning around and taking in the mudroom.
I laugh. “Guys, come on. You know who Brock’s grandparents are and I don’t just mean rich. They’re wonderful people. It’s no big deal, really.”
Actually, it’s a huge deal.
I’m not even sure Dad would have felt comfortable with a Winthrope Seattle wedding, and this place puts every breathtaking resort they own to shame.